The outers: Vladimir, Chet, Ritwik, Brandon, Jake, Mick, Brian, Derick, Jackie, Tim, Miranda, Miranda's bird, Joy, Andy, Justin, Julie



"High proficiency in the sport is only attainable when a natural aptitude is combined with long years of practice, and not without some, perhaps much, danger to life and limb. Happily, the faithful climber usually acquires this skill at an age when the responsibilities of life have not yet laid firm hold upon him, and when he may fairly claim some latitude in matters of this sort. On the other hand he gains a knowledge of himself, a love of all that is most beautiful in nature, and an outlet such as no other sport affords for the stirring energies of youth: gains for which no price is, perhaps, too high."



    --A.F. Mummery My Climbs in the Alps and Caucasus



And so it is for these very gains that our group left Purdue on Friday, March 8th. Each of the four cars was assigned a callsign, and after some initial confusion Red Leader, Blue Fox, ..., and Fun Nazis were westward bound. The first and unfortunate adventure happened in Salina, Kansas around 4am. Blue Fox aka Isuzu Rodeo started having problems switching gears, and Jackie's Pontiac Sunfire overheated repeatedly. Three cars stayed and waited until morning to properly diagnose these problems, while the Fun Nazis - with tears in their eyes - continued on to Nevada. The Rodeo was taken to a mechanic who somewhat narrowed the range of potential problems, and then to an Isuzu dealership. After several hours of quandary failed to provide a diagnosis, Tim boldly roused our demoralized rabble and went to obtain a rental car.



Shaken but undeterred, we continued our journey. The primary objective was now leaving the barren plains of Kansas and reaching Denver. Kansas is by far the most depressing state in this nation: flat fields with an occasional oil well stretch for miles, hours, centuries. So when we saw the Rocky Mountains rise on the horizon, we strove toward them with blunt, subdued determination. The Rocky Mountains are quite a sight, but unfortunately the area that we passed through had relatively low elevation: low enough for trees to grow even at the highest visible points. After an ear-popping, brake-riding Colorado, a somnambulic, nocturnal Utah, and a brief passage through Arizona, we were finally at our goal. Las Vegas rose before us like an iceberg, a field of golden lights that seduced and beckoned. One of our cars (Derick, Jackie, Tim, and Miranda) headed for a hotel, while the remaining two groups met daybreak at the 13-mile Campground (thus named for its proximity to Vegas). There we found the group that fled Kansas earlier, and nested next to them.



From here, I can only account for the adventures that befell the groups that I was in throughout the week, and even there my accuracy can be questioned.



On the first day (Sunday), we all went to Black Corridor, where we attempted a wide gamut of climbs. The corridor blocked most of the sunlight, so after some time Chet, Jake and I went scrambling around and caught some awesome views from some formidable boulders. Another member of the trip that enjoyed the sunlight was Miranda's bird, who behaved exceptionally well and only defecated on us several times.



The next day we climbed at Panty Wall, a very sunny crag with a good variety of climbs. During the approach, I carelessly grazed a cactus, and had the privilege of pulling cactus splinters out of my leg for the first time. Being pale fools, we stripped in an attempt to "signal Mars" and quickly got sunburned. At this crag, Joy and Derick repeatedly patronized me by forcing me to lead-climb everything. I would be remiss if I did not mention that some newer members - Brandon, Chet, and Mick - climbed exceptionally well, displaying both determination and ability. We finished the day of climbing with Mick leading his first route on a technical arete, then putting up a top-rope so that Derick and I could do a tricky 5.10a slab.



I believe it was that evening that we first invaded Las Vegas for a taste of the nightlife and the buffet. The nightlife reminded me too much of Disney World - thick-reared tourists with matching-color children, souvenir shops with homogeneously tacky wares, young people on a quest to get drunk, staff with strained smiles. The buffet, however, was a different story and featured all-you-can-eat pre-cleaned shrimp, which we ate until a pinkish hue graced our skin.



Next morning, we picked up a lonely climber named Scott and headed to the Gallery, a crag replete with both variety and availability. Brian was definitely the hero of the day at this wall as he led everything from a 5.8 to a 5.10c with absolutely no problems. We met a dog that liked to fetch rocks, and put on our warmest clothes not because we were cold, but to protect ourselves from the merciless desert sun. That evening we made another foray into town, ate at an overpriced buffet which featured uncleaned shrimp with legs and marinated figs.



We spent the following day bouldering at Calico Basin. I used this time to rest from the previous days, and only bouldered particularly fun problems. Bouldering is a challenging activity that trains the sport aspect of climbing, but I was yearning for another type of satisfaction. With that in mind, I scrambled to the top of a nearby mountain. The view was magnificent: the basin crowned with the red mountains, the tiny figures identified as climbers thanks only to Julie's bright red pants...that kind of view was worth the risk of my climb. While it's true that these kinds of risks are perhaps unnecessary in regular life, the absence of accompanying rewards questions the validity of such a life.



As I came down from the mountain (dubbed by my companions as the Russian Goat), the hot sun was relinquishing its dominance to a harsh cold wind. We headed back to the campsite, where some people grilled while others drank beer in a deflated tent. Derick beat the cold with delicious beer-boiled bratwurst, Ritwik prepared a steak, and Mick displayed notable mastery with chicken.



After dinner, we once again sortied into Vegas, played some fair-type games at the Circus Circus casino (yours truly won a monkey!), saw a couple interesting performance acts, and even caught a pirate show. Brandon spent some time collecting decorations for his room (insidious leaflets), Derick managed to win some money at Blackjack, and the younger members got kicked out of a bar with a mechanical bull.



It was now Thursday, the last day of the trip for most of the group. We spent it climbing at Magic Bus, which featured some of the easier climbs of the trip, but was still difficult to criticize. After the climbing, some people went to a $1 shower at a nearby climbing gym, while others went to a native fast food place (Jack in the Box). After a rendezvous at the campsite, two of the cars started on an evening trek back to Lafayette. Vegas faded as suddenly as it had appeared, Utah's gray nothingness slithered by us in the night, and Colorado reminded us of our Northern origins with icy disposition. Kansas glared at us as plainly as the sun, and we rescued our repaired Isuzu from Salina with no complications. Missouri - another state with no emotion for travelers. Illinois - the bitter wistfulness of returning home after a week of exotica. Indiana - home at last.